Draco Malfoy and the Chocolate Factory
by She-Elf4
Summary: What if Draco Malfoy had gone to Willy Wonka's factory? What makes Draco like he is? Can Willy Wonka open his heart to a boy in need? May be slash in later chapters, haven't decided yet. If so, it will be mild.
1. Chapter 1

A.N.: This story is an AU 6th year. I got to thinking one day, wouldn't it be funny if Draco Malfoy was the one to inherit Wonka's chocolate factory? So, this is a mix of Harry Potter and the 2005 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie. This may be slash in later chapters. (The other 1971 version left me scarred for life. They shouldn't have the main character nearly get chopped up by a giant fan.) Anyway, I don't own Harry Potter or CATCF. 

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Draco Malfoy paced the corridors of his father's manor, in which he lived. He tried not to think of his father's latest biting words to him. 'If it's not one thing, it's always something else,' he thought disgustedly. He pulled a Wonka chocolate bar out of his pocket. Pulling back the wrapper, he took a big bite. 'Funny,' he mused, 'how they always help me to forget.' Not wanting to face the gloom of his room, Draco headed out.

Outside in the garden, he was able to enjoy his chocolate in peace. It didn't last long. Soon, he heard his mother shouting at him to get back inside. Draco sighed, put the rest of his Wonka bar back in his pocket, and headed inside.

"What did you two fight about this time?" his mother asked.

"Nothing," Draco mumbled in answer.

"I'll give you NOTHING," His mother snapped. "If your behavior doesn't improve, you'll have NOTHING for dinner."

"Oh, good. I don't have to watch you two pretend not to be fighting again," Draco snapped in response. His cheek stung heavily as his mother slapped him.

"I won't have you talking back, young man. Do you understand me?" she demanded. Draco stared heavily at the floor.

"Yes, mother," he muttered.

"Good," she answered. "Now, go to your room and don't come out 'till morning." Draco headed out of there as fast as he could.

He slammed his door shut and flung himself down on his bed. Great, just what he needed. No supper. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes. Knowing his mother, the punishment would last through tomorrow morning as well. This meant he aught to save the other half of his chocolate bar. He took it out of his pocket and put it in his bedside table drawer. He'd have to see about getting some more.

Later, Draco heard his door open and his father came in. "Now, are you ready to listen?" he snapped.

"Sure," Draco said lazily, not wanting another argument.

"Good. The Dark Lord wants me to do some international work. Tomorrow, we will be looking to purchase a summer house. I've already looked at one. You can start packing tonight, as we'll be spending the rest of the summer there," his father answered.

"What? Why didn't I know about this?" Draco demanded.

"You do now, don't you?" his father answered mockingly. Draco glowered. "And if I hear one word of complaint from you, you'll get a good beating."

Knowing he meant it, Draco kept silent as his father left the room. As soon as he figured his father was out of hearing range, he let out a long and creative string of curses. 'Why me?' he wondered. Sighing angrily, he got out a suitcase and started packing. Oh, well. It wasn't like he had any friends here anyway.

After the suitcase was full with random clothes, he once again threw himself on his bed. He wondered where this summer house was. His father had said he was doing some international work. So, that left anywhere in the world except England. 'Great,' he thought. 'I hope it's not anywhere strange, like India or Arabia.' He fell asleep not long after, having strange dreams about chocolate and Egypt.

"Draco, wake up!" Draco woke to the sounds of his mother calling him the next morning. "Get ready! We're leaving in a couple of hours!"

"Yes, mother," Draco mumbled. After dozing for a couple more minutes, he got up and dressed. He went into the bathroom and found his toothbrush. Nearly awake, he even managed to get it loaded with toothpaste. He brushed his teeth as he dozed lightly. He woke himself up more fully with cold water as he washed his face. Then, he shoved his toothbrush and toothpaste into his suitcase along with his two remaining Wonka bars.

When Draco went downstairs dragging his suitcase, he found his parents were already ready. "Come, Draco. Have some breakfast," his father said, gesturing to a bowl of oatmeal. Somewhat surprised, Draco sat down and ate quickly without complaint. When he was done, the dish was whisked away, cleaned with magic, and put away.

"Now, we are leaving by port key. Since you're ready, we'll go ahead and leave early," his father said. He stepped in front of a boot and picked it up. Draco and his mother each grabbed a hold of it. They were all pulled out of the room to a destination unknown to Draco.

When they landed, they were in an office building. "Well, hello, Mr. Malfoy. We weren't expecting you for another couple of hours. And Mrs. Malfoy. And this is your son? Nice to meet you," a man in business robes said, looking at them all.

"Is the house ready?" Draco's father asked.

"Of course. I'll go get the key," the man said and hurried off.

"Where are we?" Draco asked.

"We're in America," his mother answered. Draco didn't comment. 'Well, at least people here speak English,' was all he thought.

The man came hustling back. "Here's the key. Everything's in order. All the furniture you requested has been moved in," he said, handing the key to Mr. Malfoy. 'How long have they been planning this?' Draco wondered. His parents then ushered him to a large fireplace.

"OK, we are going to number six, Willow Avenue," Draco's father told him. He picked up a handful of floo powder and shouted that into the fireplace. His mother quickly followed. Draco reluctantly went after them.

When he arrived at the house, he looked around curiously. He followed his parents when they called him. They led him up a staircase with a fancy rail. When they got upstairs, they opened the first door they came to. It led to a fairly large bedroom. There was a bed with a canopy in heavy forest green fabric. There were matching curtains on the windows. The walls were crème colored, as was the carpet.

"This will be your bedroom, Draco," Draco heard his father telling him.

"It's a nice room," Draco answered, admiring the dark wood of the furniture.

"I'm glad you think so," his father answered. "I'll leave you to unpack. Your mother and I have business to attend to. You can explore the house at your own leisure. If you get hungry before we get back, there's food in the kitchen." They left the room.

Draco walked over to the dresser. It had a large oval mirror. Opening the drawers, he started shoving clothes in randomly, intending to organize later. Deciding to go for a walk, he put his wand in his pocket (just in case). He'd explore the house later. He put some muggle and wizard money in his pocket.

When he was out of the house, he headed down the street, in no particular direction. Seeing a small muggle magazine stand, he walked up to the salesman.

"Excuse me, sir, but where can I get money converted?" he asked.

"Well, there's a bank just down the street and to the left," the man answered, looking up from a newspaper. "Where are ya comin' from?"

"England. We just got a new summer house," Draco said. The man nodded and went back to his newspaper. Draco left to find the bank.

After getting all his muggle money converted (he was somewhat surprised it was worth half as much as English muggle money), he went down to the nearest store that advertised Wonka candy bars. "I want six Wonka bars, please. Any kind," Draco said to the clerk. The clerk looked mildly surprised.

"Like chocolate, do we?" he asked.

"I like to stock up," Draco said coldly.

"Hey, I understand. It's the best chocolate there is," the man answered.

"Yes. Makes me feel good," Draco said. After doing the math in his head and paying the man, he said, "It's cheaper here than where I come from."

"That's because it doesn't have far to go. The shipping is a lot less," the man said.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"Oh, didn't you know that Wonka's factory is in this very city?" the man asked.

"No. Where?" Draco said.

"Well, if you turn right at the corner and turn left two blocks after that, you can't miss it," the clerk answered. Draco left the store.

He turned right at the corner, and left two blocks later. Suddenly, a huge compound loomed up before him. He had noticed the smokestacks, but hadn't thought anything of it. Now, he stared in wonder. He looked up at the locked gates with the two W's on them. "I never thought I'd see this place," Draco muttered. "I remember the first Wonka bar I ever ate. I had just had a fight with father. I was upset because he'd said he wished that I wasn't his son. I found it lying unopened on the street. I took it and ate it, and it made me feel better. It saved my life that day. I had been thinking about suicide." He was shaken from his reverie by a clock chiming noon. Realizing he should get home, he started heading back the way he came.

Unknown to him, a pair of violet eyes watched. Willy Wonka looked at the back of the retreating boy with sadness. How could p-p-pa- moms and dads say that to their children? He was very glad the boy found the chocolate bar. He wondered how long ago that had happened. Did his father say things like that often? Closing the window, he got back to work. He found himself thinking vaguely of how beautiful the boy was…


	2. Chapter 2

A.N.: WOW, this is the quickest I've EVER updated on a story…the same day! (Well, I started typing it the same day.) I can't guarantee such long chapters or quick updates all the time. (As I told my first reviewer!)

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The next day, after his parents went out again, Draco set out to explore the house. He started with the downstairs. The entryway was furnished with wooden coat racks, and had paintings of stoic people on the wall. The living room had fancy couches covered in red velvet with matching curtains. There was a grand cherry wood paneled fireplace to match the walls. Moving on to the dining room, he saw a long white table. The wooden trim on the wall matched. The walls, carpet, and curtains were all midnight blue with a subtle silver design. The kitchen turned out to have tan and gold stonework with dark wood trim and marble countertops.

Draco quickly found that the whole house had been furnished. "They must have been planning this for a while," he muttered with disgust as he went up the stairs. He passed his own room and looked in his parents' room. It turned out to have a king size bed with snakes worked into the head and foot boards in black iron. The cherry wood dresser had a mirror with matching snakes. The walls were covered in royal purple silk with a gold design. The carpet was matching purple, with gold throw rugs. The curtains and comforter were gold. Even the guestrooms had been furnished, each with its own color scheme: one with chartreuse and magenta, one with black and tan, and one with dark orange and blue.

Deciding he needed to get out for a while, Draco headed outside for a walk. He headed down the same street as the day before. He once again headed down to the other end, turned right, went two blocks, and turned left. As he walked, he enjoyed the colors of the sky and the trees and the general city. The house was so incredibly, majestically dark and dreary. He came upon the amazing factory of Mr. Wonka's.

Willy Wonka sighed. He hadn't been able to concentrate all morning. He kept wondering if that strange boy would come by again. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get a moment's peace until he knew, he headed out to the front of the factory, where he had seen the boy the previous day. He opened the window again, in case the boy started talking, like he had before. Within twenty minutes, Willy saw the boy headed towards the factory. Once again, he paused outside the factory gates. Willy smiled.

The boy just stood there and stared. This gave Willy Wonka a good chance to look him over, which he did. He looked about 15 or 16, with pale blond hair and porcelain skin. Willy couldn't see the boy's eyes from here, but imagined they were blue. A cold, icy blue to match the rest of his coloring. The boy's features were delicate, yet not weak. Willy desperately wanted to know his name.

Over the next couple of weeks, Draco made it a habit to take a walk past the factory every day at noon. He would stand there for a while, taking in the scent of it and wondering what it was like inside. And every day, a silent witness watched him pass. Willy Wonka made it a habit to take his lunch into the front hall and wait for his troubled young teenager to pass.

One night, when Draco's parents got home late, he crept downstairs to see if it was safe to approach them. Unfortunately, a stair creaked, giving him away. His father was on him in an instant, dragging him down into the entryway.

"What are you doing, spying on us?" he demanded from his son.

"I wasn't! I just…haven't seen much of you lately!" Draco protested.

"Don't go prying into OUR private affairs," Mr. Malfoy said, gripping his son's arm even tighter. Draco cried out in pain.

"Let go! You're HURTING me!" he pleaded.

"Don't tell me what to do!" his father yelled. He slapped Draco hard across the face. Tears came to Draco's eyes. "Go on, get out of here!" his father shouted, letting go of him. He left quickly and returned to his room.

As usual, Willy Wonka waited in the front hall with his lunch to see his young friend. As soon as the young man approached, Willy sensed something was wrong. Setting lunch down, he got up and headed towards the open window. Almost immediately, the boy started talking.

"Please help me," he moaned. "He's p-put me down my w-whole life. He's n-never actually HURT me before." He collapsed. Willy almost rushed out that second, but stopped as the boy continued speaking. "'You're a bad boy, Draco Malfoy, making friends with riffraff.' 'You're as bad as that rogue headmaster of yours, Dumbledore.' 'Why couldn't you have been different?' I've gotten used to that. But WHY does he have to abuse me?"

'But putting you down is just as much abusing you as hitting you is,' Willy Wonka thought. But what could he do to help the poor kid?

"Someone, p-please help me t-till I get back to Hogwarts," the kid murmured, and then fell into a silent sob. Before Willy could make another move, the boy suddenly got up and nearly ran away. By the time Willy got to the gates, he was gone.

'How could I have been so STUPID?' Draco thought. 'Sitting out there, ranting like a lunatic.' He hadn't thought about what he'd been doing. When he came up to Wonka's factory, he'd remembered that first chocolate bar, and had broken down. 'As if some strange muggle could help me, anyway,' he thought. 'As if he'd WANT to.' He slammed himself into his room and totally broke down.

To make things worse, his father hadn't spoke to him, hadn't even looked at him, since he'd hit him. Every time Draco would enter a room, his father wouldn't even look his way. 'It would be better if he'd just leave,' Draco had thought at breakfast. It had been extremely tense, trying to eat breakfast, and trying to get his father to speak to him. "Father, I-I'm sorry about last night. I wasn't trying to spy. Honest." Mr. Malfoy hadn't even grunted in reply. He asked his wife about the weather, he read his paper, he commented on how cheeky the mudbloods were getting. Not once had he even glanced in his son's direction.


End file.
